


Say Yes to Heaven

by anunexpectedhero



Series: When I'm Down on My Knees, You're How I Pray [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Biting, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Catholicism, Come Swallowing, First Time, I'm Going to Hell, Inexperienced Sherlock, John is a Priest, M/M, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Priest Kink, Priests, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Seduction, Sherlock is 18, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock, Temptation, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anunexpectedhero/pseuds/anunexpectedhero
Summary: For Sherlock, the only bright side of having to attend Mass was getting to watch the priest, Father John. From nearly the moment Sherlock reached the age of 18, he hadn't been able to turn his mind away from him.





	1. Don't Get Involved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cas_Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_Wings/gifts).



> A million thanks to [Olivia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_Wings/pseuds/Cas_Wings) (cas_wings) who has been a never ending source of inspiration to me. 
> 
> I apologize for any errors, I did my best to research how Catholic churches work.
> 
> The title was inspired by Lana Del Rey's song Yes To Heaven.
> 
> Thank you so much to [p0shb0y](https://p0shb0y.tumblr.com/) for making the beautiful cover for this, and for inspiring me to keep this series going.

Cover by [p0shb0y.](https://p0shb0y.tumblr.com/)

 

 

A wide stream of light shone down from a skylight built the chapel's high ceiling, illuminating the front of the room where Father John Watson stood. He'd been droning on about something- most likely directions on how to live a proper Catholic lifestyle. It must have been particularly important, considering the enraptured expression plastered on every listener's face.

In a pew located at the back of the room sat Sherlock Holmes and his family. They'd entered the Mass an _entire_ minute late, which Sherlock suspected his mother blamed him for. In reality, it was her that had spent an eternity nitpicking his outfit before they left the house. She insisted that he wear his finest suit in order to look 'presentable' for church.

Sherlock wiggled in his seat for the millionth time that morning. His suit felt stiff; he refused to understand why it was necessary. Mycroft discreetly nudged him with his elbow, and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He could think of nothing more mind-numbing than sitting through an hour of the exact same worship routine he had to endure on a weekly basis.

For Sherlock, the only bright side of Sunday mornings was getting to watch the priest, Father John. From nearly the moment Sherlock reached the age of 18, he hadn't been able to turn his mind away from him. Perhaps it was his dominant yet kind demeanor that attracted Sherlock initially, or perhaps it was the fact that he was unattainable. John, like any other priest, was required to abstain from any sexual or romantic relationships in order to concentrate on his priestly duties. It frustrated Sherlock to no end.

By the time Mass ended, Sherlock was more than ready to escape. However, he had to wait for his parents to finish their insufferable mingling. As they chatted with another couple, he seized the opportunity to speak with Father John. He could practically feel Mycroft's eyes on his back as he walked away.

As Sherlock approached, he straightened his posture and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Father," Sherlock greeted with a smile.

“Oh, Sherlock, I didn't think you would make it this morning, you weren't here before Mass," John noted, as Sherlock's family typically arrived early to mingle with the other members of the church.

Sherlock could feel a blush forming on his cheeks at the idea of John noticing his absence. “Just ran a bit late,” he said, his eyes flicking down to the ground. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for Mass.”

John beamed, grateful for Sherlock’s enthusiasm. “It's my pleasure, as always. You've grown into a fine young man,” he commented, patting Sherlock on the shoulder. The Holmes family had been deeply involved in the church for Sherlock's entire life.

The complement caught Sherlock off guard, distracted by the warmth of John's palm. A small, “Oh?” was all he could manage in the moment.

John nodded and licked his lips. “Well, you seem much more interested in the Word lately.”

“Right,” Sherlock answered, simultaneously relieved and frustrated that John had mistaken his interest.

“So, what did you like about the Mass today?” John questioned, finally removing his hand from Sherlock's shoulder.

 _Shit_. John hadn’t asked that before, he’d always accepted the compliment and moved on. It wasn't as if there was anything new or exciting about any of it. “All of it, really,” he answered.

John's eyes narrowed at the response, but he smiled nonetheless. Behind them, Mycroft called for Sherlock, signaling that it was time to leave. _Perfect_. “I should be off,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

John nodded, wishing him well before sending him back to Mycroft.

 

That night, Sherlock stared down at a blank document on his laptop, cursing himself for being distracted. All he had to do was complete a lab write-up. Yet every time he tried to focus on it- or anything, really- Father John would reappear in his mind. The memory of his warm palm on Sherlock's shoulder, the way he seemed to always lick his lips, and God the black and white collar he wore around his neck. He fantasized about pulling it off and sucking on the skin beneath.

Sherlock rested his cheek on his desk, willing the distraction away, as a knock sounded on his door. Lifting his head, he frowned, calling, “What?”

“We missed you at dinner,” Mycroft said, as if he actually cared.

“ _I'm busy_.”

Mycroft invited himself in anyway, and closed the door behind him. “Oh, don't mind me,” he said, making himself comfortable in one of Sherlock’s chairs.

“ _What_?” Sherlock pressed.

“Oh, I just thought I should inform you that mummy and daddy are thinking of sending you to volunteer at the church.” A smirk spread across his lips. “They think you're.. _invested_.”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed. “Don't be ridiculous I couldn't care less about any of it.”

“Oh, _I_ know that.” His smirk spread as he folded his hands in his lap. “They've noticed how much you enjoy talking to Father John, so naturally they mistook your interest. They're being quite dense. Really, it's painfully obvious why you've been seizing every opportunity to speak with him.”

Sherlock crossed his arms. “I don't know what you mean.”

Mycroft rose from his seat with a sigh. “Don't get involved, Sherlock. Nothing good can come out of this.”

“Involved?” Sherlock pretended to be ignorant to Mycroft’s meaning.

“Yes, brother mine. You could ruin a good man’s career and hurt yourself in the process.”

“ _Please_ -”

“If you're going to say he isn't interested, you should really work on your deductions. Goodnight, Sherlock.”

 

Shortly after Mycroft left, Sherlock gave up on his work and threw himself into bed. A million thoughts ran through his mind at once; it was impossible to quiet them. He'd been sure his feelings were one sided, but Mycroft had always been the smarter one. He ran through the morning’s events- everything Father John had said- to see if he'd missed something. Perhaps the way his hand had lingered over his shoulder was what tipped Mycroft off.

He wondered what it would feel like to have Father John's hand slide down from his shoulder to his arse. How firm would he grip it? Would he pull Sherlock in and kiss his neck, or bite at it just to leave a mark?

Sherlock's breath picked up, his cock twitching in his pants. He closed his eyes, continuing the fantasy, and slipped his hand beneath his waistband. His teeth grabbed hold of his lower lip as his fingers circled around his rapidly hardening cock. He gave it a firm squeeze, pulling his hand upward, his thumb circling the head as he imagined it was John's hand instead. Turning onto his stomach, he pushed his pillow beneath his hips, thrusting his cock against it. He whimpered softly, squeezing his eyes shut. The material was smooth, and he pictured himself rutting against John's leg. He bit onto his sheets to muffle his moans as his hips moved faster. Getting close, he pictured John slowly stretching him to take his cock.

Then, at the thought of John’s cock slowly sliding into him, he came on his pillow with a muffled cry.

Pulling the pillow out from beneath his hips, Sherlock collapsed onto the mattress. After returning to his senses, he frowned at the stained pillow cover before stripping it off and pushing it beneath the bed.

He didn't care what Mycroft thought, nor would he take his advice. Getting ‘involved’ is exactly what he would do.


	2. Getting Involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock devises a plan to seduce Father John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning for John being a bit reluctant because of his religion. However, everything that happens is consensual.
> 
> Just for a reference, [this](http://www.sawyoo.com/postpic/2010/02/chasuble-catholic-priest_616216.jpg) is what a chasuble is, and [this](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PfYxACInc-M/TVfQT9d3ztI/AAAAAAAAACA/LOfaGBHhMeM/s1600/tonsure_clerical_shirt.jpg) is what a clerical shirt looks like.
> 
> Thanks to everyone that enjoyed the first chapter, I hope you like this one even more.

Shortly after Mycroft advised Sherlock to stay away from John, Sherlock began devising a plan to seduce the Father.

On Sunday morning, Sherlock dressed in his finest suit, making sure the trousers hugged and shaped his arse.

Before the family left, Sherlock's mother approached him. “Now, I'm sure Mycroft told you already that we thought the church would be extremely lucky to have you as a volunteer. We noticed interested in the church you've been lately.”

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock replied, shuddering internally at the thought of _actually_ caring about a religion. “I thought I could ask Father John what jobs are open.”

His mother beamed. “Oh, darling, we're so proud of you.”

 

During Mass, Sherlock made sure to let his eyes travel down the Father’s form, hoping to catch his eye. Before long it came time to receive the Eucharist. As Sherlock waited in line, he smirked to himself. When his turn came, he stepped up to the Father, bowing his head.

“The body of Christ,” John said, offering a thin wafer.

“Amen,” Sherlock replied, opening his mouth to receive it. As John placed the wafer in his mouth, Sherlock's tongue flicked out, grazing the Father's finger tip.

Next, John offered Sherlock a cup of wine, saying, “the blood of Christ.”

“ _Amen_.” Sherlock took the wine cup from Father John, taking a sip. He let a small drop slide down his chin, which he collected with his thumb and sucked off while staring into Father John's eyes. As he passed the cup back, he licked his lips, making sure the Father saw when his eyes traveled down his body. He could see John's throat bobbing as he swallowed, and noticed his hand twitch at his side. It wasn't much of a reaction, but it was all Sherlock needed to know his intention had been noted.

When Mass came to a conclusion, Sherlock's mother turned to him. “Why don't we go talk to Father John about that volunteer job?” she asked before rising from the pew and leading Sherlock to the front of the room where John stood.

“Mrs Holmes, it's always a pleasure to have to your family here,” John greeted, his usual smile appearing tight and uncomfortable to the careful observer.

Sherlock's mom placed a hand on her chest, a warm smile on her lips, and she thanked him. “We were wondering if you had any volunteer jobs open that Sherlock could take.”

John nodded stiffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We always have something or another. I didn't know you were interested,” he said, looking to Sherlock.

“ _Very_ interested.”

“Well, I'll be here in my office tomorrow from three to eight. If you want to stop in, we can go over the available jobs.”

“Perfect,” Sherlock answered.

 

When Sherlock arrived at the church the following day, he looked around the empty main room before going to John's office. He was used to seeing the building filled with light and churchgoers. Today, the room was dim, the front illuminated by three rows of candles where John had likely been praying.

He stopped before John's door, hoping he looked decent. He'd worn a flattering pair of trousers and a white button up shirt that clung tightly to his form.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. He could hear the Father calling, “Come in.”

Sherlock entered, his heart speeding up as he saw John, who sat at a desk in a far corner of the room. He was used to seeing John wearing his loose-fitting chasuble during Mass, but today he wore black trousers, his collar, and a clerical black button up that accented his strong shoulders and trim waist.

John must have noticed Sherlock's gaping because he cleared his throat. “Why don't you have a seat?” he suggested, motioning toward a chair in front of his desk.

Sherlock obeyed and took a seat. His eyes flicked between John's lips and throat, where his collar rested.

John shifted in his seat. “Right.. the jobs, then.” He opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a large folder likely filled with openings and applications.

“Hm, yes,” Sherlock agreed, his eyes still focusing on John's form.

“Sorry, is something wrong?” John asked when he looked back to Sherlock.

Sherlock finally made eye contact with him. “Oh, I'm _perfectly_ fine,” he answered, feigning an innocent smile.

John frowned at the response. “Maybe you should come back at a better time.”

“I'd much rather stay,” Sherlock answered, his tongue flicking out to run over his lower lip.

“I really don't think this is a good time, Sherlock, John answered as he rose from his seat. He crossed the room, holding the door open for Sherlock. “You should go.”

Sherlock followed, but stood in front of John rather than leaving. “I didn't actually come here for a volunteer position,” he said, stepping into the Father’s space.

John's jaw clenched, and he looked down to the ground, his hand gripping the door tightly. “I know, and you need to leave.”

“You're tempted,” Sherlock deduced.

“ _Sherlock_ ,” John warned. “I could lose everything. It’s a mortal sin.”

Sherlock reached out to the Father, running his hand along his waist. “No one will know.”

John tensed, letting out a shaky breath. He lifted his head, his eyes flicking between Sherlock's chest and lips.

Sherlock reached across John, gently closing the door. For a moment, they just stared at each other, neither knowing how to proceed. It was clear that John was battling with himself; battling with something he had been running from for a long time. John's lips pursed, and Sherlock could see the years of sexual frustration bubbling within him.

Before he knew it, the Father was placing a hand on Sherlock's waist, pulling him forward into a kiss. It was rough and quick, and Sherlock moaned into it, relaxing against him. John pulled Sherlock's lower lip between his teeth as his free hand gripped his arse firmly.

They continued kissing for a long moment before one of Father John's knees slotted between Sherlock's thighs, allowing Sherlock to grind down against his leg. John pulled away from Sherlock's mouth, kissing a line down his jaw and his neck, where he nipped and sucked on the sensitive skin of Sherlock's throat.

Sherlock tipped his head back, whimpering at the sensations. “Please, Father.”

“What do you need?”

“Anything,” Sherlock panted.

“Take off your trousers and bend over the desk,” John instructed.

Sherlock obeyed without a word, more than ready to let John take charge. Pushing the chair he'd been sitting in aside, he unfastened his trousers, letting them and his pants pool around his ankles before he leaned over the desk, resting on his elbows.

“You have no shame, do you?” John remarked, running his palm over the bare curve of Sherlock's arse.

Sherlock peered behind himself, and noticed John palming his cock through his trousers. “Please,” he whimpered, pushing his arse back into John's hand.

John dropped to his knees behind Sherlock, mouthing along his thighs. He reached around to grip Sherlock's cock, giving it a few long, slow pulls.

“Do you want this?” John asked.

“Yes, anything,” Sherlock answered, nodding frantically.

With that, John let go of Sherlock’s cock, using both hands to part Sherlock's arse cheeks. He leaned forward, running his tongue up from Sherlock's perineum to the top of his arse, and back down to circle around his hole.

Sherlock moaned, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the desk. “F-father,” he choked out. The sensation was completely foreign to Sherlock; it was unlike anything he’d felt before.

John's tongue circled Sherlock's hole a few times before gently prodding against it. “Relax a bit,” he instructed.

Sherlock did his best to loosen up, and could feel John's tongue slowly working its way into his arse. The combined feeling of John’s slick tongue and his fingers pressing into Sherlock’s arse cheeks, holding them apart, made Sherlock tremble.

“I'm getting close,” Sherlock informed, reaching down to grip his cock. Before he could, however, John took hold of his wrist, stopping him.

“Not yet,” John said, rising, and Sherlock whimpered at the loss.

John moved to the opposite side of the desk, seating himself in his chair. “C’mere,” he instructed, patting his lap.

Sherlock stepped out of his pants and trousers, following the Father. It was a little awkward at first, but he managed to climb into John's lap. John's hands circled Sherlock's waist pushing up his shirt.

“Let's get you out of this, hm?” he suggested, and Sherlock obeyed immediately, undoing each button until he could slip his arms out.

“Gorgeous,” John commented, his fingers running up Sherlock's chest. He stopped at Sherlock's nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them before giving them a pinch. Leaning forward, he took one of Sherlock’s nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it.

Sherlock hissed through his teeth, a small drop of precome falling from his cock onto John’s lap. His hips rocked forward, seeking any sort of friction. He peered down, seeing the line of John's hardened cock through his trousers. Reaching down, he rubbed it with his palm, and John hummed.

“Can I suck it?” Sherlock asked, licking his lips.

“God, yes,” John allowed, beginning to unbutton his trousers as Sherlock climbed off his lap and kneeled before him.

John pulled his cock out, and Sherlock gaped at it. He'd always assumed it would be larger than average, but he'd never anticipated the girth. It was wider than he'd expected, but Christ it was gorgeous. He reached out, circling his hand around it.

“You have done this before, right?”John asked as Sherlock tried to get a hang of the awkward angle.

Sherlock paused, shaking his head. “Not before today.”

“Oh, my God,” John muttered, running his hand over his forehead

Sherlock's hand twisted up as he leaned forward, flicking his tongue against the glans of John's cock. The Father groaned, and his hands gripped the chair's arms tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

Sherlock closed his eyes as he took the tip between his lips. He could feel one of John's hands threading through his hair, likely to pull his curls out of the way of his view.

Keeping his hand at the base, Sherlock took more of John's cock into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He coughed a little at the sensation, taking a mental note to work on his gag reflex. Rather than taking it all in his mouth, he worked the base with his hand, twisting up and down while he licked and sucked on the head.

“That's good, so good. Touch yourself,” John instructed.

Sherlock did as he was told and fisted his cock with his free hand, moaning around John's cock.  
“I'm close, you might want to pull off.”

Sherlock shook his head. “I want to taste it,” he said. He redoubled his effort, taking as much of John's cock into his mouth as he could without gagging.

“ _Sherlock_ ,” John choked out, his fingers tightening in Sherlock's hair as his orgasm crashed through him.

Sherlock winced as John's cock spurted into his mouth. The taste was bitter and overwhelmingly salty, but he swallowed every drop nevertheless. His hand sped up around his own cock, and before long he was thrown over the edge as well, coming into his fist.

Father John sagged in his seat, breathing heavily. Sherlock rested his head against John's thigh, and John’s fingers combed through Sherlock's hair as he worked through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

After they both caught their breath, Sherlock stood. He grabbed a tissue from John's desk and wiped the come off his hand.

He looked to John, who was staring down at the ground. The guilt of his actions was plastered all over his face.

“This wasn't a mistake,” Sherlock assured as he scooped his clothes off the floor and began redressing.

John didn't reply, just tucked his cock back into his trousers and nodded.

Sherlock noticed John's phone, which sat on one corner of the desk. He picked it up and added his number to John's contacts.

“I should go,” Sherlock said, once he looked presentable enough to leave.

John cleared his throat. “Right.”

“You have my number.”

 

Each day that passed without word from John felt like a punch to the gut to Sherlock. He'd been checking his phone constantly ever since they parted. After three days, Sherlock gave up hope, assuming the Father didn't want to ever see him again.

It wasn't until Thursday night that Sherlock received a text:

_Monday. Same time. JW_

**Author's Note:**

> I made a playlist to go with this series, you can check it out [here.](http://8tracks.com/anunexpectedhero/say-yes-to-heaven)
> 
> Kudos/comments would mean the world to me ♥


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